Quercus Quassatus
by ovidius-naso
Summary: Omnia vincit amor. Love conquers all. Forty years after Vergil writes these lines, a young girl wanders away from a market, an immortal promise unfolds across the fabric of time, and a second chance is given. Historical AU set in Imperial Rome.


_"Now Eros shakes my soul,_

 _a wind on the mountain falling on the oaks."_

-Sappho, trans. by H. T Wharton

AN: This is the sequel/prequel/AU to my story "The Cherry Trees." It can stand alone, but it might have more context and meaning if you read that first! I couldn't resist trying my hand at a historical AU fanfic, so I hope you enjoy, but this might be super slow at updating. It's not finished and my muse tends to be flighty, so I welcome any feedback to combat her fickleness. Ave atque vale

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The bustle and volume of the market nearly drove him to distraction. He truly loathed the place. Loathed the smell of the unwashed humans in it, loathed their incessant racket, and now he loathed his sister for having brought him to this sycophantic merchant's domus in the core of the noisy city, where he was now stuck for the next five hours until it was sundown, at which point they could finally leave without detection.

Athenodora had heard of a new shipment of cloth being brought in from some distant land in the East and had been adamant that she _needed_ to see it. The soft tinkling sound of the sweating fountain in the merchant's atrium did nothing to stem the noise from the store in the front of his home, nor the busy market that lay outside it. Marcus was certain his homeland was never this noisy or polluted with human bodies and he scowled once again at being stuck in this horrid Italian city, longing for the fresh, salt breezes of the Peloponnese, or even the orderly bustle Athens. Anything but this imperial conglomerate that was bursting at the seams.

Caius and Aro were doting on their mates as the two women fawned over the silk damasks and soft gauzes. Aro especially watched his new mate with a fond, possessive gaze as she smiled gleefully at him. With a hand around her waist, he encouraged her to choose any bolts that pleased her before pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Aro had stumbled upon Sulpicia a century past during a routine trip to Ostia Antica, when they had been checking in with some of their latest trade ventures. He had recognized the stunning, slightly austere, dark-haired woman immediately for his mate, whisking her away from her life as the youngest daughter of a lesser known poet. The two had not been parted for longer than a half day since.

Marcus was pleased for him, truly. He and Aro had been together for a thousand years and he could see the good this past century had done his ancient friend, even if his heart ached for a mate of his own. It seemed a cruel curse of the gods to give him the ability to see the joyous bonds of others, and yet not have one for his own.

Athenodora gasped with joy as one of the merchant's slaves produced a linen coloured with saffron from a cask on the floor and displayed it to them, a close enough match to her hair for the human's eyes.

That little monster had been found by Caius as he led a victorious army through the streets of Marcus' natal town of Athens during an uprising in the period following the conquests of Alexander "the Great," as he was now known. Athenodora had been the wife of one of the most prominent generals and was miserable in her forced marriage. Caius had killed her husband in front of her, much to her delight, and their mutual appetites for lust and violence alike had been testing the limits of Marcus' sanity ever since.

"Oh, my love! We must buy this one, it would go beautifully with your new colours," she said slyly to Caius, using a dead dialect of Doric Greek. The merchant looked confusedly at her use of an archaic Hellenic tongue and she ignored him.

"Do not be foolish. I will leave the purple stripe for Aro," he scoffed, side-eying his brother. "I do not have the patience for this _empire_ or it's senate."

He and Aro had found Caius a half century prior, dying on a battlefield following an armed skirmish between a Roman king and an Etruscan army. They had seen how he fought and it had impressed them both, having never seen a mere human fight so formidably before. Once night fell, they had approached him where he was still lying wounded in the field and offered him the chance to be reborn. He had accepted it with the ferocity that only Caius could produce and they had never regretted the decision. He was a welcome balance to Aro's cool and collected scheming and the three of them had made a formidable coven.

"Perhaps I _should_ run for magister next year," Aro said with amusement as the idea took form in his head. "I would so enjoy a good consulship and I think you would quite enjoy the people of Gaul, my sweet," he told Sulpicia, whose eyes lit up with a predator's glee at the promise in his tone.

Marcus rolled his eyes in boredom and strolled away from the family and toward the door that led to the servant's entrance. It was nestled in a side alley between this domus and the one next to it, slightly quieter than the front of the house, which bordered on the market, and offering shade so he did not draw any unwanted attention. He took a deep breath of the fresher air and allowed his thoughts to clear.

He heard a sudden panicked screaming in the market as someone yelled a child's name frantically. There was a commotion as more people joined in and began looking for her as well. Another lost little lamb, he thought sardonically.

He was distracted then by a tiny figure toddling down the alleyway into view, likely the same little lamb that was now being frantically looked for, and now she was walking straight into the lion's den. She was wearing a tunic the colour of poppies, which looked quite fetching paired with the red curls hanging loose around her small shoulders, he thought. Marcus had never held any interest in babies when he was human, and even less now that he was immortal, but he estimated that surely this little creature was hardly more than an infant.

She turned toward him, her round face looking up at him and curiosity pulling on the sweet pink bow of her mouth. It was then that he felt as if he was going to collapse. Without warning or preamble, a mating bond sprang between them, yoking them together and he saw, even in the innocence of the child's face, that she had recognized it too.

She dropped the doll she had been holding and immediately held out her arms to him. When he did nothing, still frozen in shock, her face turned to an angry scowl, as if she were unused to not getting her way and couldn't fathom this new development.

" _Lev_!" she demanded, holding her arms up again.

He was too awe-struck to do anything except obey and carefully, gently lift the tiny human. His mate. His mind reeled with the fact. He had no idea how to hold a child and his hands itched between the need to clutch her tight to him so she didn't fall and so he could feel the warmth and softness of her small body, and the warning need to be careful with this precious, breakable thing.

Her face screwed up at his handling of her. Surely he was not doing it right, he despaired, as he held her by the waist and she dangled there between his arms.

"Shhh," he soothed and, on instinct, began purring to placate the disgruntled little creature. "Be still, little one."

He adjusted his hold on her, bringing her closer to his body so she was flush against his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck, nestled her face beneath his chin, and let out a happy little sigh as she got what she wanted. That one little sound nearly undid a thousand years of control he had carefully cultivated and he once again fought the urge to clutch her tighter to him. Instead, he breathed in her scent, imprinting it into his memory. She smelled of the milk and sweet bread she must have been fed for her midday meal, but under it she was sweet like honey, and yet fresh like the air on the apex of a mountain.

At the sound of their tussling, his family appeared behind them, crowding with confusion and concern. Caius looked in disgust at the undeveloped human clutched protectively in his brother's arms.

"What is it, Marcus?" Athenodora questioned, slight impatience leaking into her tone as she desired to get back to the cloth merchant and his wares. "Who is the child?"

"My mate," he said beneath his purr. He heard her pause and take an unnecessary gasp of breath.

"Truly?" came her amazed tone. "How happy I am for you!"

"But she is so small," came Caius' unsure voice. "Surely such a young one must develop a little longer, no? Are you _quite certain_ about this? I've never heard of-"

"Indeed, she must grow more, although I'm not going to play nanny to my sister, I do hope you know that, Marcus," Athenodora replied tartly, interrupting her mate. "I suppose we could always procure a slave as a nurse, though," she continued thoughtfully.

"Should we not return her to her family until she is old enough to join us?" Came Sulpicia's soft tone. "She is clearly from a senatorial family," she nodded to the fine spin of the cloth the child wore. "We can find her gens and ensure we keep watch over her until that time."

Marcus fought the urge once again to tighten his hold on the small, happy thing in his arms at the thought of being parted from her.

Sulpicia clearly saw this and reasoned further. "She is too young, Marcus. She needs her family and the care we cannot provide until she is grown."

His heart tore at him and he thoughtlessly ran his hand through her soft curls, luxuriating in the silky strands. Such an uncommon colour, and yet it so beautifully contrasted with the emeralds of her eyes. At the sound of their voices, he could feel her shifting her head to look over his shoulder at his family behind him.

Athenodora caught the child's eye and grinned at her. His mate giggled a happy baby laugh in response and hid against his shoulder again.

"How charming you are," he heard Sulpicia muse. She reached a hand to brush it over the back of the hand that was clutching the front of Marcus' toga and the child immediately latched onto her finger. His sister gently dragged her hand out of the grip and slid her finger over his shoulder this time, trying to entice the child to grab it again. Instead, the little mortal huffed angrily at his sister and shoved the offending hand away from him possessively. He heard them all laugh in response, but the game was paused as the child suddenly perked up as she heard the voices calling her name growing closer. She wiggled against his hold on her and looked at him with a distinctly mischievous look on his face.

A dishevelled looking slave who looked of Numidian origin appeared in the alleyway and, upon seeing Anna, ran toward them, relief and worry still battling for dominance over her face.

"Junia Silana Anna Perenna!" she exclaimed at the child, who once again hid her face against his neck bashfully. "Thank the father! There you are! You must not wander away from me!"

Marcus looked at the woman disdainfully and asked, "This is your charge?"

"Yes, dominus," she said, and bowed her head respectfully. "I am so very sorry she disturbed you. She is a willful child. I will make certain she is disciplined for this."

"It is you who should keep a better eye on her," he said, his hand unwittingly coming to stroke her soft red curls once more. She sighed happily against him and peeked at her nanny. "She is just an infant, you must protect her better. Anything could've happened," he hardly kept a feral growl out of his voice at the thought that harm could have come to his tiny, vulnerable mate

"Yes, dominus, of course," the woman said once more. "I will take her back to her mother now, if you will."

She held her hands out to Marcus, clearly expecting him to hand over his burden.

He reluctantly disentangled his tiny mate from his arms and handed her to the care of her nurse, seeing her face fall as he did so. He had to tense his arms to keep from snatching her back right then and there.

"Be good," he told her sternly, as the slave adjusted her in her arms so she sat on her hip. "Do not run from your nurse again."

She pouted and her bottom lip quivered, but she nodded her head.

"Good girl," he praised. "I will see you again."

And with that, the dark-skinned woman walked away, carrying the most precious thing he had been waiting for for all his long life.

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Translation:

Domus: a traditional Roman city house. Not as large or luxurious as a villa. Most merchants would live in a house with a storefront attached to it and their living quarters in the back.

Lev: I've spent an embarrassing amount of time thinking about Latin baby talk and how that would've been constructed. This is a shortened version of the command _leve_ , so she's basically saying "pick me up!" in baby talk.

Dominus: master, in this instance used as a title of respect to a wealthy citizen.

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Glossary:

Purple stripe: Only senators or citizen youths wore togas with a purple stripe to distinguish their station

Gens: The family or clan a person is born into.


End file.
